Numbers
by SweetDisposition34
Summary: Quinn gave her baby away to Terri.Baby Drizzle is now a freshman at McKinley and determined to untangle the mess surrounding her birth. With the help of Emma,Drizzle puts names and faces to the 6 Numbers who have haunted her and her mother for so long.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay so basically this fiction takes place about 15 years from now. Hypothetically, Quinn gave away her baby to Terri, who named the baby Drizzle. Emma helps Drizzle untangle her messy past and helps her realize the five (or six) people who will always love her. **

**Enjoy!**

**XOXO**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee at all, but I guess I own aspects of Drizzle's personality, considering she isn't an official Glee cast member quite yet. :P**

**Number 5**

"_Number 1 is what I called her in my mind, because I knew there were five of them altogether. Number 1 is my biological mother who gave me up to my current mother. She didn't want me, I guess, or didn't love me. I don't know the story very well. Number 2 is my biological father, and all I know is that he was not supposed to happen, not supposed to be my dad, but he was anyway. I guess you could call me an accident with a capital "A" because just like one drunken night between my parents, I wasn't supposed to happen. Number 3 is my biological mother's boyfriend at the time. He loved me, a lot, apparently, till he found out that I wasn't his after all. Number 4 is my adopted mom. She's the only one out of all five of them that still actually loves me today, or at least that's what I thought a few months ago. Now I know better. Number 5 was her husband. He knew she was expecting me, an actual baby, but he left her anyway for someone else. I used to think you had be heartless to do something like that, but now I know the truth. _

_What I've learned, though, is that the truth can hurt much much more than you think."_

X

It was a lonely, dreary day in our fair state of Ohio. It was in the middle of November, which meant that I hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in nearly a month. Every November, my mom has night terrors that leave her sweating and screaming his name, begging for him to come back. She'll sit up and frantically pat the bed beside her, as if he would be there, but he isn't. She sobs and cries and pretends that I don't hear her, even though she knows I can. Sometimes I bring her a glass of water with one ice cube, but sometimes I don't. My mother has it in her head that I can fix everything. She knows I can't but doesn't let herself believe it.

I know she needs help, serious help. I can't go to the local community center myself, I'm fourteen and don't have a car or one single person to drive me. Well, I do, but I'm not about to ask my favorite teacher at school to drive me to the community center to sign my mother up for mental help. No thanks.

But as the bags underneath my eyes get bigger and darker, purple flashes against my tan skin, I know I have to get her help somehow. If I can't fix it, maybe someone else can. This is how I found out about Number 5. He was last on my list but I discovered him first. That's the thing-- me finding out about my Numbers was not in an orderly fashion. No. It was jumbled and messy but finally I had them all.

And that same day, I discovered a sixth number. But I never told anyone that, that was for me to know only. I walked into Mrs. Schue's office, my Converse sneakers slapping the linoleum. It was after school and on a Tuesday, and I knew she would have her SAT prep course soon.

I tap on her glass door-- whoever made a guidance counselor's office completely of glass was the stupidest person since George W. Bush-- and I notice how she cringes as I do so. Fingerprints on her door, probably. Mrs. Schuester is the cleanest person I've ever met in all of my years, even then I remember her office smelling like Lysol and Germ-X. I'd always liked that smell, but it was forbidden from our apartment ever since I could remember.

Once I had come home from school with a hint of it on my palms from a visit with school counselor, and my mother made me scrub my hands till it was gone. I caught her crying on the phone with my Aunt Kendra later about some Doe-Eyed-Ginger-Harlot-- how I'd come home smelling just like _her_. She said this with such disgust that I realized that the woman Number 5 had left my mother for had probably smelled like that. I knew this woman had to be awful, right?

To steal an expecting father away from his home, his life, the baby he was supposed to love? I didn't know the whole story then. This was the first experience I could remember where she or where _They_ were mentioned. The first time I, Drizzle Williams, had wanted to learn about what had really happened to my family that now lay in shambles.

I snapped out of my trance when Mrs. Schue said, "Hello, Drizzle," she smiled brightly and flipped her already-flawless hair. It must take hours, unlike my unruly dirty blonde curls. "I-I wasn't expecting you. Shouldn't you be, umm, at Glee?"

"It just ended," I fibbed, feeling stupid immediately because she was married to the Glee coach after all, she knew it wasn't over. But she nodded politely. "I need a pamphlet about the therapy at the community center."

"Oh," she said quietly, beginning to hand over the pamphlet but re-thinking this and pulling it back before I could grab it. "Y-you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" she asked. I knew I could, but this wasn't for me. I remembered very suddenly why I had come here and said simply,

"It isn't for me."

"Oh?" she pressed on, not too prying but just prying enough to get me talk. This was her job, to let me open up about my feeling and everything, but it annoyed me that she wanted to know everything. There was something about her I couldn't place. Between her, Mr. Schuester, and Quinn Hudson the cheerleading coach, I had stored up enough knowing glances to last someone a lifetime. It was like they already know everything about me even though we'd barely ever talked.

But then I saw her face, the genuinely concerned look, like she knew what I was facing every night. Back then, I had felt that if you weren't strong you were nothing. But it was hard being a teenager, being strong, and seeing your mother sobbing and screaming for someone named "Will" in her sleep every November, the month he had left her.

I told her everything. I spilled my heart out, my innermost feelings I had never told anyone. It wasn't that I had wanted to tell _her_ in particular, but I needed to tell someone. To put it all out in the open, and she was one close by at the time. It was one of those right place right time things, where I would have said it to the random guy on the corner if he had agreed to listen. My small kid heart had been broken, my brain exploding with situations way beyond my maturity level. I took a breath, I needed her to know, I needed _someone_ to know.

"My mom married this guy," I explained. "And they were int love and... and everything. He knew she was expecting, knew I was on the way but he left her anyway for someone else. It's all I know about him, besides his first name, but I call him Number 5. Because he's one of the five who were supposed to love me... supposed to love me but never did end up doing it. He left my mom for some 'Doe-Eyed-Ginger-Harlot' as my Aunt Kendra calls her."

The woman cringed so visibly I thought I spotted tears forming in the corner of her huge eyes, but they were gone as soon as she pumped Germ-X onto her palms and sighed. "Drizzle," she began hesitantly, as if she was truly stumped. Maybe I shouldn't have told her after all. "Do... do you know anything else about him? D-do you miss him, or think your, umm, life would be better if he was your father now?" She didn't give me advice, just more questions.

It was like salt in an open wound to me. I had thought about this often, but brushed the thoughts away. He was the bad guy. She hadn't done anything wrong-- but I knew she had. "Maybe," I said, feeling smaller than ever before. I felt like she was genuinely curious, that she wanted to heal my hurt. "I-I... I would like to think he was awful to my mother because then that would make her innocent... but I know that she probably wasn't. I've only ever heard her side of the story, even she says she probably drove him to it, but that's just who she is, right? But... maybe I'm not giving him enough credit. Maybe he was good, maybe I just don't know it." I swiped a tear away from my eyes and got up to leave, "I have to go."

It was getting late at night, and my mother was probably worrying about me. I grabbed the glossy pamphlet and left quickly, thanking her. I had no idea as I walked into the chilly night that I had hurt her, too. That my story, my not knowing, my environment had made her feel evil. If she hadn't been around, would I have a better life? I still wonder that now, but I know the answer is no. I wouldn't take away the love of someone I love, even if that person indirectly caused me hurt, caused me pain. I'm older now, I'm not fourteen anymore, and I can admittedly say that I love all five-- all six-- of my "parents".

But then again, as I left McKinley high school and mounted my rickety Cruiser bicycle, I had no idea that I would soon come to love the person I had just crushed, or Number 5, or the rest of my Numbers too. I swallowed, fearful of coming home to a depressed mother, stuffing Chinese food in her mouth. I knocked on the door, hoping she made dinner, but for November that was wishful thinking. Unless it was a holiday or birthday, Great Taste's By Mr. Wok would have to do as take-out.

She was in sweat pants with bags under her eyes, and I could hear my Aunt Kendra from the couch. After her messy divorce when I was three, my Aunt Kendra could be counted on to be at our house, staying stupid things and invading my space. Sometimes when she would say something ridiculous and outrageous, I would let myself get angry in silence. I would think harshly, _I wish someone else had adopted me! _But then take the thought back as soon as it was unearthed. I loved my family even if they were crazy. They were all I had.

My mother, Terri Elizabeth Williams, might have been crazy. But out of five people, she was the only one who loved me. Who wanted me. And that would have to be enough-- that always would be enough, for me, for her.

X

It was the next day a Glee rehearsal I had realized what I had done. "William!" Sue Sylvester called bitterly, marching into the room, "Figgins wants to speak to you, ASAP." She flicked him in the shoulder and stomped out, her red tracksuit swishing in the breeze.

_William_.

_That could be shortened, could be shortened to Will. _

_The smell of Germ-X on my hands was what my mother hated. _

_Mr. Schuester's name was Will. _I had always known this, but after my conversation yesterday with his wife, the jigsaw pieces finally slid together in my mind.

_Mrs. Schuester smelled like cleaning products._

_And had read hair._

_And doe eyes._

_And my mother told me that he had met this other woman at work. And they had always worked together._

_I needed to get out of that place._

"I have to go!" I cried, rushing from the room, bumping into my teacher. He looked puzzled when I swiped at my eyes and dashed off towards the guidance office. I was smart for fourteen, I had figured this out on my own. It was a stretch, but it would explain why Mr. Schue had always taken a liking to me, why Mrs. Schue was so surprised to see me, so apparently hurt by my statements.

I had made a huge mess. "I'm sorry!" I called out to him over my shoulder. He had no idea what for unless his wife had told him of our meeting, which was against the law. I knew he would forgive me sometime, forgive me for secretly hating Number 5.

But it was Number 5 I disliked, not Mr. Will Schuester. My opinion of someone, I realized, could drastically change once I had a face to match the name.

I pulled open the door to her office, tears streaming from my face. "Drizzle, wh--" she began, but I stopped her.

"Mrs. Schue? Listen, I-I... I might be completely wrong and off, and if I am don't hate me for it, please, but... but there's something I need to say."

"Alright," she stood up, her voice worried and small. She seemed fragile, like I could break her if I touched her. I realized she probably had been broken before, but Mr. Schue had fixed her. I was thankful for that, at least, that now I had someone to talk to and who would listen.

I guess if he had stuck around my house, that wouldn't have been the same.

"I'm sorry for calling you a Doe-Eyed-Ginger-Harlot," I whispered, and she hugged me. "It's alright, Drizzle," she said, patting my head. "You didn't... you couldn't have known..."

"It isn't your fault, Mrs. Schue... I was wrong about him, about you. You're both good, I think." She began to speak but I interrupted, "I know my mother must have done something to have it end up t-this way... but I don't want to know, not now. Not yet," I said, and she nodded, agreeing with me silently.

"I'm always here for you, Drizzle," she said. "I know how strong you are... you don't always have to be so strong."

"I'm not," I told her. "Strong. I'm nothing b-because I don't know who I am.... I need to know who the Numbers are. They're what's going to make me whole, because I'm so many people combined into one. My name is from Number 3, my looks and traits from 1 and 2, my personality from 4... my life from 5. And... and Number 6..." I trailed off, and Mrs. Schuester cocked her head to the side, but not talking. She knew who I was talking about. "Number 6 is a good person who cares about me still, even though I hurt her."

She put her hand on her heart, surprised. Her smiled was infectious, and I swiped my eyes again. "I-I... I need your help. I know you wont tell me who they are. But I need you to help me find myself, no matter how long it might take?"

"Okay," she said, smiling.

I knew that I wasn't alone in finding my Numbers anymore. In one meeting, I had checked off Number 5. I knew him now, he knew me. I had a feeling that Mrs. Schuester was going to be there when the Numbers came back, came back for me. I knew I would find them all, and I knew I had at least one person alongside for the lifelong journey it would be.

I wasn't ready then for the truth, not yet. I was hurt by Mr. and Mrs. Schuester even though they hadn't wronged me. It had been programmed in me for so long that I didn't understand yet how backwards I had the situation. I still had to be loyal to my mother, I felt like I was betraying her. I was just finding out who I was underneath it all, though, and I knew those feelings of betrayal would fade.

It would be years before I discovered the next in my series of Numbers, but I knew I had an ally waiting when I needed one. After all, Mrs. Schuester was honest and impartial, qualities I needed from someone in my life. My mother gave me love, but she would never encourage me to find out who had left me, loved me before she had.

I was glad though, that there was someone who could.

Who could.

**Thanks! This is going to be a five or six part throughout the stages in Drizzle's life. She wont find out the Numbers in order, but it will be in chronological order. The next chapter should be up soon-ish! Review please please please! **

**love and kisses,**

**XOXO**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry for the long time it took to update! 2 years have passed since the last chapter, and Drizzle is graduating from her high school soon as well as she's turning eighteen.**

My birthday was, coincidentally, two days before graduation. I guess you can say that this was an extremely lucky thing, lucky that I became legally an adult before I left McKinley, before I left people and things I had no idea mattered all that much.

Ever since I had figured out who Number 5 was, and created a special Number 6 spot, the Schuesters had me over for dinner once a week. I liked their house and their kids and it wasn't awkward. I didn't have a dad, and Mr. Schue liked having me. He still felt guilty about leaving me, he still blamed himself for my somewhat ratty home situation. No matter how many times I insisted I wouldn't change it, he would shake his head and tell me to just enjoy my dinner.

I started calling them Will and Emma outside of school during my Junior year, and soon it became difficult to call them anything but. As soon as I graduated, I remember Will wrapping me in a big fatherly hug and whispering, "I'm so proud of you, Driz," into my ear. It was simple, but years later it still means so much.

I stopped blaming Will a while ago.

Emma was sad to see me leave McKinley. While I was her student, I knew I was probably more. I was cleanly and sarcastic sometimes, I was a break. I knew she liked having me in her office just to chat- we didn't ever need to really discuss anything. But over my last few years at WMHS, I realized just how much she took the blame for what happened to me.

She wouldn't view herself as a home wrecker, and I didn't really either, although I sometimes felt bitter about her and Will together, a perfect family. Those feelings always passed by quickly, and were replaced by an appreciation of finally having someone whose judgment wasn't clouded by their own problems to look after me.

Emma would ask me how my mother was often, and the truth was that since her therapy began, she was getting better. The nightmares came less and less, and I was happy about that. I now could rely on a decent night's sleep, even in the heart of November.

My life, I remember, had seemed to have improved since my sophomore year. Emma had helped me realized that I didn't need to do it all on my own, I could break once in a while. In trying to please everyone, namely my mother, constantly, I realized I had missed out on just being myself, or just being in general. Now, I can say that every moment is precious. I don't have to constantly be _doing_ anymore. I don't feel like fixing my broken past is my job anymore, I know I don't owe that to anyone but myself.

I knew as I was on the brink of eighteen that these relaxed seas I had become accustomed to, these new ways of hanging out with Will and Emma, or helping my mom, or knowing that I didn't need the Numbers to know myself, would soon be over. Ever since I was a little girl, my mom told me that on my eighteenth birthday, she would tell my who my birth mother was. I look back and remember the anxious, nervous, and excited twisting of my stomach as every day or hour or minute or second passed by me. I remember tapping my fingers, drumming them against my thigh constantly to distract myself. I tried at home not to seem too excited, as I didn't want to see my mother hurt.

It would probably be hard for her to show me all that I had missed.

"Stop tapping your leg," Emma sighed as I sat her office after Glee practice one day. "It's annoying." She wiped her desk down with a handy wipe and pulled her yard stick out from its resting place behind her file cabinet. I rolled my eyes but forced my fingers to halt their action against my jeans.

"Fine," I said as she began to measure the distance from her calendar to her lamp- it had to be six and a half inches, the coffee cup resting dead center. I adjusted the position of her flowery datebook and calendar, then twisted the lamp. Satisfied, she sat down in her chair and sanitized her hands. "You know, Drizzle," she began softly, sympathetically almost, "d-don't you think you might be getting too excited about this?"

"No..." I said, mulling this over. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was putting my birth mom on some huge pedestal that she didn't deserve. But I had no idea. However, in the years I had grown close to Emma, I had become acutely aware that Emma knew exactly who my biological mother was. "Do you? Y-you know her, after all," I said quietly, hoping this would strike a nerve and get Emma to back off.

Why couldn't she just let me get excited?

"O-oh, umm, D-Drizzle, y-you know that I-I... that I can't, umm..." her accent betrayed her and I managed to stop myself from chuckling.

"Em- Mrs. Schue, calm down," I told her, resting my palm on her arm the way she did to me sometimes when I got upset or nervous. She smiled at me maternally- she only wanted to protect me from disappointment.

"I just don't want you to be hurt, Drizzle," she sighed, taking a long and leisurely blink of her gigantic eyes. "But," she smiled, "since your birthday _is_ tomorrow..." she grinned her ridiculously white grin (probably due to her huge metal dental kit resting in her top drawer- Will had told me the stories) at me and handed me an impeccably wrapped gift.

It was long and skinny, and the wrapping paper had rainbow stripes on it. The yellow bow on top made me giggle- it reminded me of Emma. Seemingly, every other thing the woman owned had a yellow bow on it. "From Will and me," she said as she watched me examine it gratefully.

"Thanks Mrs.-"

"Emma," she interrupted, nodding in my direction.

"Thanks, Em," I said, starting my sentence fresh. The way she had smiled at me made me believe she really did care about the crazy, needy teenager with a past so messy it rivaled a cow pen in a dairy farm. "You didn't have to," I told her, my smile evident.

"Of course I did, don't be silly! Now open it," she said, squirting Germ-X onto her palm and watching happily as I attempted to open the gift without ripping the paper. I couldn't hold in the gasp that had escaped my lips when I noticed the light blue Tiffany's jewelry box. Even now I think that it was ridiculous of them to buy me something so extravagant, but that just goes to show what good people they are.

I glanced up at her nervously, and a smile played on her lips as she clasped her hands in front of her chest, ever the lady. She bit on her lip lightly as I pulled the lid from the long, narrow box. "Oh, Emma!" I had told her, "it's beautiful..." she helped me slip the charm bracelet onto my wrist.

It had a delicate silver chain and four lovely charms on it. It still jingles on my wrist whenever I walk, and as I grew up I was careful to never let it lose its graceful shine. The first charm was the trademark Tiffany's oval with the stamp and everything, the second a small diamond-encrusted heart shaped charm. The third and fourth, though, are the most special of them all. The third charm was simple- tiny and a glittering silver shaped into a delicate bow. The fourth was a little musical note lined with rhinestones. "Just so you don't forget us when you go off to college," she smiled, resting her hand on my wrist, a rare privilege that only the cleanest students were granted.

"Em, this is too much," I smiled, knowing it had probably cost a small fortune.

"It was worth it," she declared, getting up from her chair to eliminate a smudge on her otherwise perfect windows. "You know you're worth it, Driz," she said, standing up and wrapping me in a delicate hug.

I remember her pulling away moments later and wiping almost furiously at her eyes. Emma Schuester was crying, crying over me. She met my eyes and giggled, the glassy sheen over her eyes making them glow red.

"Gosh," she said, and I giggled because her Appalachian accent made it sound more like _gawrsh. "_I'm _such _a mom..." We both laughed. Emma told me how in the few short years she'd known me, how she had grown to love me. However twisted our relationship was, she was proud to be sixth on the crazy list I'd conjured up as a little kid to put some label on those who had impacted the way my life had turned out. And she told me how fast it seemed like I'd grown up- from the little girl who had walked into her office teary-eyed two years ago to the woman and close friend who left that same office today. She gulped, "I'm really proud of you, miss Drizzle," and wrapped me in one last hug. "And you'd better stop by after graduation!" she called as I left.

I remembered blowing her a cheesy kiss like a movie star would do, popping my foot, and walking confidently down the hallway, feeling truly loved and appreciated and proud of who I was, because despite the fact that some crucial pieces of the jigsaw were still missing, I felt like I was starting to become myself- a person I never thought I truly find without the Numbers.

X

Dinner had been good, really good. I didn't even asked how my mom had pulled it off- she was officially The World's Worst Cook. I knew from my own dinner experiences at the Schuester's that when he left her, so had her yummy and nutritional supply of meals. She even had baked carrots and veggies (my favorite food in the world), which resulted in me thanking her profusely. For some reason, my mother hated cutting vegetables. She just hated it, sort of like how she hated when guys wore pocket squares or why she frowned whenever she saw some mannequin in a store window donning some dorky man sweater.

When you lived with Terri Williams, there was some things you just never understood.

Most of her little antics I can explain now, because I'm older and wiser and know the truth. But then again, some are just small inexplicable things that no one would ever understand except for her and maybe Aunt Kendra.

But enough of that, back to my birthday dinner. It had been full of small talk and how proud she was of me, about how she was so happy to have raised a woman as good as me. Even though my mom had been dealt a rough hand of cards, she had still managed to bring me up well through her own horrible times. I would always appreciate her for pulling herself out of the wreckage of her life enough to love me, because now looking back on it, her life had been a wreckage around the time I entered the world.

"Drizzle?" she asked quietly as I chewed a carrot. The candles on the table sent a dim glow over us, and I smiled as I heard her voice. It was happy but filled with something I couldn't place. "I... I need to show you something. It's-it's the other part of your birthday gift, but... it's not really a gift, you're sort of entitled to it, I guess," she got up from the table, and I could detect (but just barely) a twinge of sadness to her voice. "Wait here."

As soon as she turned around from her, her hand flew to her face, and in a swift wiping motion, it returned to her side. I would know only minutes later that my mother was preparing to hand me over completely.

She returned to the dinner table with a shoebox in her hand. "Lets go to the couch?" she said as if she was smaller than I was.

"Sure," I said, standing up next to her and draping my hand over her skinny shoulders. I really, really loved her. She was what made me _me_, even if it seemed like I actually had no relations to her in any way sometimes.

With age you realize that the ties of the heart are always stronger than those of the blood, of the genes, of the body.

"Thanks, Mom, I really app-"

"Shh," she told me as we sat, and she began to lift the lid off of the box. She shut it again just as quickly, though, and pulled it into her lap. She sucked in a cool breath, then sighed. She opened her mouth like she was going to talk, then closed it. She finally opened it again, "Drizzle, honey," she started. "I... I've always planned on giving this- all of this- to you the day you turned eighteen. I... I promised myself, I promised her. B-but it's a little harder than I thought. It-I feel like I'm giving you away, Driz..."

"You're not, Mom, I... you're my mom. No matter what genes say, or what any of it says, you're still my mom, always. Alright? B-but... but what's inside the box?" I had needed to assure my mother that no matter what I always belonged to her. No matter what doctors and people and documents claim- I'm a Williams, and nothing can change that. Nothing.

"D-do you still want to look?" she asked, settling the box between us on the sofa, fair ground for either of us. I nodded, "I'm ready, Mom," and smiled at her as she gently removed the lid.

"You're mother loved you very much, Sweetie," she told me, "but she was just a... she was younger than you are now. She wasn't ready to be your mom, no matter how much she wanted to. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, sweetheart, she loved you and wanted you to be hers. And no matter how much I tried to deny it, I couldn't have babies. Ever. I-I... I needed you, baby, and when I heard about her issue, I thought that we should meet. And we did." My mom inhaled sharply, her lips pursing as if she was trying to tell me something but didn't want to. She knew that I knew that she had been married to Mr. Schue, and that Mrs. Schue was "the other woman" in her eyes.

"Mom?" I asked, "I... If you don't want to tell me about what happened between you and... umm... Mr. Schue, just know that I'm not asking to know," I said meekly, and a small smile broke across her face. Her eyes that always had that glitter in them seemed to be returned to their old spark, which made me happy.

"Okay." This was said simply, matter-of-factly, and I knew she was taking me up on this offer to leave the truth undisclosed for now. "So... we agreed that she would give me you, the best gift someone could ever ask for. S-she just wanted help; vitamins, care, someone to talk to and rely on. At first, I didn't want much to do with her. But then, well... then it happened- he left. And I realized that I had already done so much wrong, Sweetheart, so, so... so much wrong. I knew that I had messed up, badly, that the table w-were going to turn very, very soon. She only took me up on my offer because of him, I think. She was his student... she thought he was the perfect guy to give her baby girl a good life."

"Then what happened?" I asked, curious. If my biological mother never wanted my mom to have me, how could I be here, now, eighteen and in my living room discovering bits and pieces of my past. How could I be discovering Number 1, then, if any of this was true?

"So I apologized. I... I went to her and told her what I felt like, how I knew that being so cold was me just trying to deny the situation that I could never have a baby of my own. And... and she did something so big, so beyond a teenager I'll never know how she did. She said that she knew she couldn't do it now, it was probably impossible, but that she knew that she loved her child. She said that even though it was a mistake, per-say, she would never want to have to deal with being unable to have a child... l-like me. She said that I would appreciate her because she would never actually be fully mine, not genetically, anyway. And she said that I already knew how much she was worth, how much that little baby meant and how much she was to lose. You're a lot to lose, Drizzle," she whispered to me, and the strangest sense of the feeling that years ago, those same words had helped to bring me to my mother. I smiled at her and brushed a tear from her cheek, then mine. She kept going:

"She said I knew that, and I was what was best for her, for you- that little tiny baby girl inside of her. Her only wish was for your name to be, well, 'Drizzle.' She told me I would never understand, but that it had a meaning, that someday it would help bring her close to the the person you, that tiny baby, had meant so much to."

_A twenty-year-old Finn Hudson walked into Breadsticks, Lima's best restaurant for just a quick meal. He wasn't growing anymore, but the college sophomore was still hungry all the time. He was home from college for Christmas break and had wanted to get out of the house for just a little while. His mom and Burt were ogling over each other and ever since Kurt left for New York a few days ago to get back to his fashion career, he could admit that home wasn't as fun anymore. _

_Usually, they'd be at the local bar having a few brotherly drinks or sitting on the couch at home watching HBO and sharing college stories. Surprisingly, over the four years since sophomore year at McKinley, both boys had grown up a lot._

_Kurt was happy dating Stephen Cohen, a trainer at his local gym in New York who was only about a year or so older than Kurt. Finn was happy with... Well, Finn was single. He could assume Quinn and Puck weren't together anymore- ever since Puck had blown off the baby's delivery to go "clean the pool" of Ezra Fisher's mom, Quinn had seemed more than bitter towards Puck and his bad boy style. _

_Finn hadn't seen or spoken to Quinn in two entire years, hadn't really spoken to her in four if you counted Junior and Senior year of high school. Ever since he found out about her lie, he could never really forgive her or himself. He knew she deserved it- it was just a mistake, she was sorry- but he felt too ashamed to talk to her now. He felt like that ship had already sailed- that ship was probably all the way to Figi by now._

_On his way out of the bar, Finn was greeted by a familiar face. Terri Williams, the old school nurse and Mr. Schue's ex-wife was sitting at a booth near the bar with a little toddler who looked about three or four. He grinned- Finn had always loved babies. "Finn Hudson?" the woman said, looking up from cutting chicken tenders for her kid. "I haven't seen you in years!" her voice was happy, but held clear resentment. _

_She couldn't portray the perfect wife anymore, so instead she had moved on to play the perfect mother card. _

"_Nice to see you Mrs... uh..."_

"_Williams," she finished for him, smiling. "And this is Drizzle," she said as she beamed down at the little girl in the highchair next to her. Finn could see the baby's face now, clear as day. It was tan like Puck's, but all of Quinn's features including her eyes and blonde ringlets were as clear as day. "I... I adopted her a few years ago from Quinn Fabray," Terri explained, "she's the light of my life."_

"_Y-you... she... you named her Drizzle?" was all Finn could choke out._

"_It was her mother's idea. She said it was important."_

_Finn nodded, "Thank you so, so much," he breathed, smiling down at Drizzle and rushing out the door. There was someone he had to find. _

_As soon as Finn finished college, he would marry Quinn Fabray, the girl of his dreams who would finally be forgiven that chilly December night on the front steps of her apartment. _

X

I looked at my mother as she continued speaking, finally passing me a crumpled photo and handwritten letter. "I'll let you look at these alone," she said as she left to go clear the dinner dishes. Turning eighteen was such a crossroads, and now I had found my mother. She nodded towards the letter, "I've never read it, but I know she did... a thousand times over, she told me." Terri left the room with a smile, leaving the other girl behind to take in the letter and its contents.

_Drizzle, _

_I don't know how to talk to you, baby girl, I don't know what to say. I'm in the end of my third trimester, and your due date is tomorrow. I guess this is going to be goodbye for us, but I don't want it to be. I never want it to be. You're so beautiful in the sonogram pictures. That's all I have of you, and will always be because I know that if I see you after you're born I wont be able to let you go. Puck tells me I need to move on, get on with my life after you're born. But the thing is, I can't. I've never felt empty before, but with you inside my belly I feel whole and full, like the whole package. With you gone from my side, I know I'll never be complete again. But the whole issue is that you can't be complete with me, and of course I would trade my comfort for yours in a second. I would do anything for you, baby girl. Being a mom is something I wish I could do right now, but there's so much more than just taking care of you and loving you. Sometimes- all the time- I pray that loving you would be enough. If it was we'd both be rich, I think. _

_Terri is going to be good to you. She's loved you ever since she knew I was pregnant, even if she didn't always show it. I'm sure she'll tell you the whole happening between her and her husband eventually since I don't plan on telling you now. His name was Will and he was a really, really good guy even though some people might still be calling him a slut. I'm sure you'll meet him someday- he loves you too._

_There are so many people you love you, Driz. Finn does, I know it, even though you were supposed to be his and aren't. And Puck does too, he has to, somewhere under all of that bad boy act there's a nice guy. So does Ms. P even though she probably doesn't know it yet. She's cool- she's one of the people who helped me out when I didn't have anywhere to go. I stayed over at her condo a few nights when I left the Hudson's house, when I knew I wasn't welcome there even though Mrs. H wouldn't dare kick me out. And of course Terri loves you. Mr. Schue loves you so much, he loves you so much it almost hurts us all. But he thinks he's totally lost you. Don't worry- he'll find you again, just like I will._

_I guess maybe even though I certainly can't give you enough of actual wealth right now, Sweetie, you're taking a money bath in love. Call yourself Bill Gates, baby girl, because you're the richest in what matters most on this crazy planet._

_No matter what they tell you, Drizzle, honey, I love you so, so much. You're my best girl, and I'm going to find you one day. You'll see- they'll all see. One day, sweet pea, we're going to be together. I swear I'll wait around in Lima until you get old enough to actually know me. Even though I don't really know you, nor do you know me, I can't imagine leaving you behind in this godforsaken town where everyone has enough baggage to make the luggage claim guys at the airport go insane. _

_You'll be eighteen by the time you read this, two whole years older than I am. It's scary to think about the fact that I'll be thirty four when I first meet you, but I know we're going to be great friends. You'll see- they'll all see. Everybody who says I can't, you can't, we can't- baby girl you've got to remember that your mommy promises they're all wrong._

_ Love always,_

_ Mommy_

_ Quinn Fabray_

The letter is always with me now, in my purse or in the back pocket of my jeans. When I first read it, it was covered in creases and tear stains. Now there are more of course, from me reading it and crying every time. She was so, so right in everything that she told me. I looked at that letter on my first night being eighteen and just cried because finally I knew. I let my tears fall where hers had- so sad, but loving the idea that we shared something when our teardrops blended together and landed in the same spot.

I took the picture next and choked out a sob so surprise. A much younger, gentler looking Mrs. Hudson, clad in a Cheerios uniform, stared lovingly back at me. It was dated 2009, very early on in her pregnancy with me.

I realized now that I loved her. That all of her attempts to get me to join the cheer squad or the celibacy club now made sense. Her friendship with Mrs. Schue was much clearer now, too- my favorite red head had been a shoulder to lean on for me and my mother. I liked it that we had more in common that where our tears landed on a page and a good few chromosomes.

I hugged the articles closer to me. I felt more whole than ever, more Drizzle than ever. Everything was for a reason, I was beginning to think. My mom came up behind me and draped her arms around me, "I love you, Driz," she whispered, finger-combing my long curls. "And she does too."

I had finally, finally found Number 1.

X

My name was called and went up to the podium to accept my diploma. I sighed happily and noticed my mother, the Schuesters, and Mrs. Hudson swiping proud tears from their eyes. My eyes locked with the ones that closely resembled my own, and Mrs. Hudson smiled up at me maternally. She knew that my birthday had been only days ago, but I hadn't said anything to her yet.

At the end of the ceremony, the students shake hands with all of the teachers and the teachers wish them all well. I held the picture of a much younger Quinn Fabray in my hand, folded neatly. I had added my name beside hers on the back, knowing that she was probably a month or so into pregnancy at the time of the photo.

I hugged Mr. Schue who whispered, "I'm so proud of you, hon," into my ear and ruffled my blonde ringlets. I flashed him the charm bracelet, and rubbed my fingers over the musical note as I turned to walk away. "Don't forget me when you're rich and famous?" he asked me, half kidding, half serious.

"Never," I promised, kissing his cheek and thanking him for everything. Really everything, not just what he had taught me in Spanish and Glee.

Finally, I reached her. My biological mother. She blinked away tears as she reached to shake me hand. I shook my head, "no" at her and wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you," I whispered. "You're the bravest person I've met," I told her. "You... I... without you, I wouldn't have had any of this." I gestured to the crowd and my gown and cap, to my mother in the audience and the Schues over by Figgins. "You mean a lot to me, Mom, and I'm proud to be your daughter."

The last phrase came out in such a low whisper, but the tears fell freely down her face and I knew she had heard. I knew that Number 1 now had a name and face and personality, and that she had just been reassured that she had made the right choice as a teen.

I slipped the photo into her palm and closed it for her, her eyes widening. "Finally," she whispered to me, hugging me quickly and silently vowing to take more later.

X

_The sixteen year old girl sat on guidance counselor's couch in her pajamas. She cried a little as she wrote the last phrases of the note to her daughter that was going to be gone very, very soon. She could only pray it wasn't forever as she ran her fingers over her enlarged belly. "We'll be together someday... you'll see- they'll all see..."_

**Review!**

**XOXO**


End file.
